Executioner
by Padfoot Reincarnated
Summary: Peter pays the Potter home one last visit, and is given the one thing he has never wanted to have. They trusted him. And he wishes that they didn't, because it means he cannot trust himself.


**Disclaimer: Do not own, did not make profit.**

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When Peter was younger, he had been scared of executioners.

He had never met one, thankfully. But when was thirteen, Sirius and James had been laughing over a book in the corner. And he had wondered what it was.

And it had been a black robed man, face covered, raising his axe, preparing to bring it down on a Hippocampus.

He had thought it was disgusting, then, that the two boys were laughing at it, and he had told them so.

He had woken suddenly that night, from a dream that Sirius and James had axes and chased him around the Quidditch Pitch—"It's only a game, Peter! It doesn't hurt!" And he had known they would catch him; he was taller than James but James was quicker and skinnier, and Sirius towered over him.

He isn't scared anymore.

Now he covers up his own face and marches at night, cloak flying behind him. Now he is the one little kids scream about at night, and it is he who causes the tearstained faces. Now he is the one who laughs at death.

He is untouchable.

"Peter!" James is obviously happy to see him. He opens the door wide and embraces his friend, pulling him into the house. Lily rolls her eyes and shuts the door as her husband continues into the living room, chattering away.

Peter tries to act normal. But his legs are shaking and his hands are clammy and his face is pale and sweaty.

"Pete?" James tries to meet his eyes, uncertain, "Are you alright? You look like you're going to be sick."

Peter nods faintly, sinking backwards into _his _chair, the one he saw and loved so much that James bought it. Just for him. Peter's chair is between Remus' chair and James' chair, beside the fireplace.

"Yes…not feeling so well…"

"Wait here…I'll get you a drink of water."

James disappears just as Lily appears, waltzing downstairs with Harry in her arms, crooning a soft song to him under her breath.

"Hello, Peter," she says pleasantly. "Harry, sweetie, say 'hi' to Uncle Pete." She pulls his fist out of his mouth.

"Hi," he says happily, struggling to pull himself out of his mother's arms. She lets him down, and he waddles to Peter.

It is instinct that makes Peter bend down and scoop Harry up. He tickles the toddler, laughing as Harry shrieks with mirth.

But his arms are numb and his laugh is hollow.

Harry will be dead before the week is over.

The thought scares him more than any childhood nightmare, and Harry is the executioner and he is holding his axe just above Peter's neck.

Lily is saying something, but Peter doesn't hear, and he doesn't even realize he's put Harry down until he is on the couch, and he doesn't realize he is sitting down until James is beside him, and he doesn't realize James is beside him until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Peter…? Pete, are you okay?"

Lily steps back, hushing her crying son. This is not her time. Not now. This is the time for the two friends, for her husband and the other man. Lily has never seen Peter crying before. Neither he nor Remus ever cries in front of her. But now he is bawling like a child, and she is scared.

Peter's face is wet, and his nose is dripping. Disgusting. He wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and nods.

"I'm sorry…" And his voice is small, and his throat is tight. "I'm just a little on edge…Worried about you and Lily and Harry."

And scared of James. But that is unspoken; it has always been unspoken. Peter is the master of the night. But James and Sirius have always been able to catch him. No matter how far he goes, no matter how far he runs, they always chase him and they always catch him and he can never escape.

Please don't make him do this.

"When will Sirius be here?" He hears himself ask.

"Any minute now…he's actually a bit late…" James is worried as he says this. Peter can read emotions like other people read words, and years of watching James has made him clearer than almost anyone else.

It was Sirius' idea for Peter to be Secret-keeper. He had held the secret for two days. And they had been the best two days Peter had ever had since the war began, since he had become a spy. He had not had to worry about anything…Sirius would never say anything, no matter how long and hard they tortured him, and so Peter had known his friends were safe. He had a perfect excuse. He _couldn't _hurt them.

And now he had to do it.

Sirius arrived, and when James hugged him, Peter could tell it meant more than when James had hugged him. It meant brotherhood and trust, and it told Peter that James forgave Sirius for anything he'd ever done, and that he would never stop loving him, no matter what happened.

Peter had never had any of that, not from anyone.

Peter, Sirius, James, and Lily linked hands for the charm, and Lily is the one who does the actual spellwork.

And now it's too late. They have handed Peter the axe and commanded him to use it. They have signed their own death warrants, and no amount of wishing can change that.

Peter is the executioner, and for once he isn't up to the job.

Not the way Sirius claps him on the back, and they both pretend the tears in Sirius' eyes aren't really there. Not the way Lily holds him tightly, and kisses his cheek, and tells him how much this means to them and how much they love him for it. Not even Harry's sloppy baby kiss and his loud declaration of love for Uncle Pete.

Not even James.

He and Sirius leave together, but when they step out, Sirius can no longer see the house and Peter can.

"You take good care of them, okay, Peter?" Sirius says this lightly, but he is no longer joking, and they both know it.

"Of course I will," Peter lies.

"James and I trust you. You know that, Peter?"

"Of course." And his mouth is dry and sandpapery, and he wishes the earth would just swallow him whole and let him spend the rest of his life in the dark.

Sirius meets his eyes fiercely. "I trust you, Peter. But if anything happens to them…anything at all, I swear, I will kill you."

"I won't let anything happen."

Sirius nods and claps his shoulder. "I know." He pauses for a moment, searching for something to say. They never used to have to think of things to talk about.

"I'll come check on you on Halloween, make sure everything's okay," he says finally.

Halloween. Peter has until Halloween.

They separate at the end of the street. Peter apparates to his flat in Hogsmede, and Sirius jumps aboard his motorcycle.

He cannot bring himself to lower the axe immediately. The executioner, for once, is frightened. But it is only momentary hesitation.

"_My Lord…The Potters have made me their Secret-keeper."_


End file.
